The Hall of Mnemosyne
by mrs.shigwa.cobain
Summary: Rating will up for violence. 6th year, Harry's still shocked by Sirius' death & gets highly motivated to finally kill Voldie. Who wants to help? But is he really helping, or a spy?
1. I do need to talk

Disclaimer: Do I own these pants? Oops, nope, they're borrowed. Do I own this bracelet? No- borrowed. Do I own anything HP? Follow the pattern with this one...  
  
Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger sat in the Gryffindor common room along with about the entire of the Gryffindor population. It was Christmas Day, but it didn't feel like it. Two years before, Lord Voldemort had returned to power with a form of his own, and in the past year he had since exercised his strong power. Hogwarts was always regarded as a safe haven, so most parents had opted to let their children remain there over the holiday.  
  
The students were scared. If there was even any talking amongst them, it was done through tight lips and an unmoving frown. Not at all like Christmas! There was no utterance of "Happy Christmas!" or "Look, there's some mistletoe..." No one even paid attention to the festive decorations which the professors had hung in an attempt to boost morale. No student could keep up the façade.  
  
Harry had an itching feeling. He felt like he should be doing something worth his while, like his holiday homework, or, oh yeah, killing only the most feared wizard ever, how could he forget about that one. He had over the years, however unwillingly, became somewhat of an adrenaline junkie, and his nerves just simply couldn't stand being silent and still for so long. The clock ticked on. Seconds stretched into months, minutes to decades, until Harry was sure he had fallen asleep long ago. No wait- not him, Ron.  
  
Ron was sitting next to him on the overstuffed couch in front of the fireplace and was dozing slightly and softly snoring. His head was propped against Hermione's shoulder and his flame red hair was stuck up at odd angles with a few stray locks tickling at Hermione's chin. Hermione, who also appeared to be sleeping, looked very peaceful. Her normal uptight, worried expression had vanished and been replaced by a serene half-smile, although her eye twitched jerkily once every minute or two. Harry watched them for a moment. They deserved sleep after all the tension he felt that he brought into their lives.  
  
Noticing his chance to escape for some time alone, Harry stood. His joints, which had set in his sitting position, complained painfully, but his muscles yearned to run far away, to hop on a broom and fly for hours. Unfortunately, the other occupants of the common room had other plans for him.  
  
When Harry had risen, faces turned up all over the place. They stared at him with eyes big and full of hope. They wanted him-no, they needed him- to reassure them. Silently they seemed to plead with him to reveal any information he had. How? When? Where? And who, who could possibly stop him? Harry stood uncomfortably in front of each nervously curious face.  
  
The Gryffindors watched The Boy Who Lived. He looked the same as he had last year. A bit older perhaps, but the same nonetheless. He looked so similar that, if you didn't look at him closely, you might miss the subtle changes in his appearance since the ordeals of the last year- since Sirius died. His posture had never been outstanding, but the slight stoop in his shoulders was getting more and more noticeable. Harry's hair seemed to have taken some kind of hint and settled down a bit. If his mind wasn't already occupied, he might have found this a wonderful thing to have behaving hair, or he might have found it sad that he appeared to slowly resemble his late father less every day. His eyes were only faintly bloodshot and flanked by small dark bags, but were very troubled. They seemed hardened, more guarded, and drenched in a new burden of responsibility, the kind of responsibility that no boy his age should bear: the responsibility of life versus death.  
  
Harry opened his mouth and several people sat up in anticipation of his worldly and wise words of advice.  
  
"Happy Christmas, everyone," Harry croaked, his throat scratchy and dry. Disappointment shone plainly in all of the students' visages. Harry picked his way through the crowd toward the portrait hole, trying to avoid the terrified glances he was receiving. Once away from the throng, he quickened his pace. His eyes glazed over; he didn't need them. His feet knew his destination and they were taking charge. Had he let his eyes be in control for only seconds longer, he would have seen the tall, muscular body blocking his path before he collided with it at top speed.  
  
"Oof! Potter, you crock! Get offa me!"  
  
Harry recognized that drawl.  
  
"Malfoy."  
  
"Very good, Pothead. Let's label other things, shall we? Over there we have a suit of armor, there's a portrait..." Draco pointed at various objects in the hall, labeling them respectively.  
  
"What do you want Malfoy?" Harry growled. Lately, Harry wouldn't get so worked up about Malfoy, seeing as he had more important problems to deal with, but now, this was seriously cutting into his alone time.  
  
"Why, whatever gave you the impression that I *wanted* something, and from you of all people?" Draco sneered, but the insult fell flat; it just didn't come out as it used to. It was as if Draco hadn't truly meant the jab, but said it instead out of pure habit. Harry folded his arms across his chest and succeeded in looking rather intimidating and Draco's eyes darted around furtively.  
  
"Ok, Pottey. I do need to talk to you... but not here..."  
  
A/N: The beginning of my new HP story! What do you think? And NO, Harry and Draco are NOT getting together romantically. Anyways, I have a great vision for this fic, hope you liked this 1st chapter! I hate begging for reviews but, PLEASE REVIEW! 


	2. Do you trust him?

Draco sat twiddling his thumbs; he wasn't sure he could do much else. He was sitting in a solitary chair under a very bright light and if he was the type to be nervous, which he prided himself highly in the fact that he wasn't, he would be greatly so at this moment. Potter had taken him to a very remote room, the Room of Requirement, as he had heard Potter call it. They were soon joined by Granger and Weasley, but Draco had expected this. He just had a bigger, if not tougher, audience to play to.

The three Gryffindors were on the opposite end of the room as Draco and were whispering furiously about something and it didn't take a sorcerer to guess what the something was. Abruptly their conversation halted ad they approached Draco with the air of a lion stalking its prey.

"Malfoy," Weasley spat in a restrained voice.

"Yes?" Draco asked lazily; he couldn't appear too eager, he had to play this just right.

"You were telling Harry that you needed help?" Granger said, although it was more of a question than a statement. Her voice plainly showed her disbelief.

"Aye," Draco said. He tried for an expression of pleading and hoped that it didn't turn out as menacing as it had when he practiced it in the mirror at home. "And as you know, I wouldn't come to you unless I knew you were the last ones to go to."

"Either that or it's a set up," Weasley growled. Granger responded with a swift elbow to his gut; Weasley looked sullen.

"What makes you think we would help you anyhow?" Granger asked.

"_Because_ it has to do with Lord... Voldemort," Draco replied with a shudder for good measure.

"How so?" Potter demanded.

"Well, I had gone back to the Malfoy Manor for the holiday break and I... overheard things, things no one was meant to hear." Draco fidgeted with his tie. He wasn't one for fidgeting but he figured in this situation any weakness he could show would help his cause. "I suppose I wanted to warn you, that's why I came back early."

"Malfoy," Potter spoke tersely (it was very obvious this boy was not open to change), "why in the world would you want to help us? Don't you just revel in all that 'pureblood supremacy' _bull hockey_?"

Draco drew a blank and looked to Granger who huffed indignantly. Draco sighed.

"It was the way I was brought up. My father... he taught me that; growing up I knew no different." Draco answered, speaking his mind for this first time in a long time. "I hate him for it."

"So?" Potter prodded. Draco looked confused.

"Excuse me?"

"What did you overhear?"

"Plans..." Draco said, not sure how much he could embellish before getting himself into trouble. Granger rolled her eyes impatiently.

"Such as?"

"They are planning an attack. I don't know too many of the details, just that they are coming for you." Draco stated, confident that his answer gave away little. Apparently it was too little.

"And how is that different from any other time?" Weasley asked. "They're always coming. Now it's just sooner than last." Potter nodded in agreement.

"He does have something of a point."

A look of pride flicked across Weasley's face. Draco sighed yet again. They certainly weren't going to make this easy.

"They plan on luring you away, making sure there are no Aurors or people with experience that could possibly back you up."

"How do we know you're not the lure?" Granger inquired.

"Well I am very _alluring_, aren't I?"

No one spoke.

"Tough room."

Silence.

"I was joking... besides, if you don't want to believe me, you can go back to believing Potter's dreams. I hear that worked real well for you last year."

Perfect. Draco knew he had touched a nerve by the look on their faces. Potter's cheeks flared a brilliant shade of red. Uh oh, a line had been crossed. Instead of exploding, however likely it seemed by the colour of his face, Potter stood there, mouth opening and shutting in a sour attempt to get some words out. Then, the emotion drained from him as if sucked by an unseen force. His face looked vulnerable, but uncannily serene, masking the violent thoughts swirling through his head, scratching at the wounds that hadn't yet fully healed. He seemed strangely fragile, as if had someone breathed on him, he would have crumbled onto the floor in a heap of dust. He shrugged noncommittally and swallowed, eyes downcast shamefully.

"I suppose it would be nice to have an alternative."

Weasley appeared absolutely betrayed.

"Harry!"

"Ron," Harry started evenly, "this is beyond rivalry. This is it. If we can have an inside look of... the enemy, we have to take it." The words came out awkwardly, as if by saying it out loud, he was forcing himself to believe it. He extended his hand. Granger gasped and held her breath.

Draco eyed Potter's hand. _Well, there's no way I can go back now._ He put out his own hand and grasped Potter's. They stood like that for only a moment before dropping their hands to their sides. Potter felt like he had just sold himself to the devil. Weasley edged in quickly, trying to redeem himself.

"So, the next time you have news for us you'll catch us in the hall," he suggested.

Draco snorted. "Of course not. Oh, and I'll have to refer to Granger here as 'mudblood' at least twice a week."

Weasley's eyes narrowed. "Why?" The single word was loaded with venom and Draco was caught off guard. He quickly recomposed himself, complete with a cheeky smirk, and answered.

"I would have thought _that_ to be obvious," he said haughtily. "If anyone sees me being decent to you..."

"Ah, still worried about your reputation, Malfoy?" Weasley interrupted.

"_No_, and if you let me finish, you'd understand. If I'm caught with you by anyone in the school, everyone will figure out what I'm doing. And when I say 'everyone', that extends to my father. If he gets wind of this, you lose your inside man. Got it?" Draco explained spitefully. He forcefully held himself back from adding 'you moron' to the end of his speech.

"Oh," Weasley squeaked, face flushed a deep crimson and quickly darkening.

"How will you contact us then?" Granger asked, more out of necessity than curiosity.

"I guess by school owl. That would be the easiest, correct?"

"Too risky," Granger rejected.

Draco scoffed. "How is _that-_" Granger gave him a very plain 'don't-argue-with-me' expression and he shut up. "Well, what do you suggest?"

"Perhaps we should have a schedule until we have a way to contact each other," Granger said and looked to each of the boys for a response. She received three similar affirmative grunts. "So, what do you say to every Monday and Thursday night we meet here at eight, after the holiday ends?"

Another round of grunts sounded followed by an awkward stillness.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat," Draco said silkily, strutting toward the door, "but I've got to get back to the Manor before anyone sees that I'm gone."

Granger nodded in a business-like manner and shooed Draco from the room. Only after the door shut behind him did she let out a heavy breath.

"Do _you_ trust him, Hermione?"

"No, Ron, not one bit," she said shakily, "but we're going to let him tell us everything he knows and divulge nothing to him."

"My thoughts exactly."

A/N: I'm back with this story with a new name (previously titled 'Alliance') and a timeline of events planned out and ready! I promise I'll never leave this story off as long as it has been ever again... not that there are a million people here dying to see how I develop this. I know the reviews for this have been as few and far between as the chapters, with any luck both will change. Ok, enough out of me.

MorphManiac: Well, I hope he seems more in character in this chapter. I've never written him this way, so you'll have to bear with me. I hope it's an awesome start...

Ahlam: Thanks, and sorry if it seems like I've ignored your request. I have so little time actually online now... I'll try to get to it. Please don't be angry if I don't get to it soon. I'll try my best!


	3. Help me to help them

'_They don't trust me,_' Draco thought to himself while wandering through the corridors. '_I don't have the kind of time to gain their trust the old fashioned way...' _Now all he needed was a shortcut, and it appeared that he had just found one. His savior had just rounded the corner in the form of a fair-skinned, ginger-headed young woman.

"Weaslette!"

Draco ran in a very dignified manner toward the girl who was rapidly getting farther away. She was trying to ignore him but found it very difficult when he stood in front of her path, refusing to let her by.

"What _is_ it, Malfoy?" She spat after finally giving up the notion that she could continue on her way.

"Whoa, where's all the hostility coming from?" Draco put up his hands in mock horror.

"If you've got a point, ferret face, please make it. I haven't the time or the patience to play games with you." She tapped her foot angrily. Draco, realizing that perhaps he pushed too far, withdrew and stood at a peaceful distance from her.

"Actually, I come to you a reformed man on my knees asking for help and forgiveness," he said. Remarkably, he didn't puke, not that he didn't have the urge, mind you.

"You look to be standing to me," Ginny retorted, not believing a single word.

"Well, I'm not _literally_ on my knees, no. It's a figure of speech, you see..." Upon seeing the look on Ginny's face, Draco knew she was having none of it. He had to pull out all the stops on this one.

"Fine, you want me on my knees? Here," he lurched down carefully, landing on both knees, then looked pathetically up at Ginny. "Now I'm on my knees, thoroughly humbled before you. May we talk now?"

There was a pause. Draco gauged by the length of the silence that Ginny was considering him.

"I'm listening," she said finally, now obviously intrigued.

"Alright, well I've already spoken to your brother, Potter, and Granger. We've reached a sort of primitive agreement for me to help them out with all the inside information I can get." He paused to study her face.

"And what do you get out of it?"

_Bugger._ He hadn't practiced a way out of this one.

"Weaslette, I'm different now... I just want to make up for the wrongs that I've done; it's penance."

All was quiet until Ginny spoke up again.

"Go on."

"Well," he gulped, _'this better work', _"the problem is, I can tell they don't totally trust me."

"Do you blame them?"

"Absolutely not. I've done terrible things in my past. But if this... alliance has any chance of working, I need them to trust now. I don't have time to earn it by myself," explained Draco.

"By yourself? Ah, this is where I come in," Ginny said.

"Very good, you're not as dim as you let on."

Ginny fixed him with a deathly threatening glare. Draco cleared his throat and moved on.

"Anyways, I need you to get them to be more trusting of me soon. For the sake of the cause," he added hastily.

"And how would I do that?" Ginny looked shrewdly at him, knowing the catch was coming shortly.

"Be my girlfriend," he suggested. She froze. "Only for pretend, of course, and only in front of Potter, Granger, and your brother."

She snapped her jaw abruptly shut and shook her head. "I don't think that'll be possible. No... definitely not. Sorry. Go find another girl, I'm sure there's plenty that would do this for you. Get an easy Hufflepuff... that ought to do it." She rambled on, and tried to dodge away from him so she could keep walking. He wouldn't let her.

"_No_, you're the _only _that could help me in this particular position. It's for the _cause_!"He repeated.

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "And what if _I_ don't trust you enough to help you now?"

Draco sighed. "You just have to believe me..." he answered weakly.

"Wrong answer."

"Damnit, Weaslette, I'm running out of patience!" Draco's fists were balled and he was shaking slightly from annoyance; it was clear he was close to losing his temper. "All I'm offering is _help!_ All I'm _asking_ is for help. Help _me_ to help _them_!"

"Well, if you blow up like that..."

"Merlin, you're impossible!"

"That kind of talk will get you nowhere." Ginny gloated; a Gryffindor never gives up the chance to revel in a Slytherin's hardship.

Draco ran a hand through his impeccably kept hair. "I didn't want to have to do this... but if I must, I must," he said evenly. Ginny cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I'll tell them your little secret... I'll tell _Harry_ your secret."

Ginny looked challengingly directly into Draco's eyes, unflinching. "What could _you _possibly know about me that you could use against me to my own friends?"

Draco sighed again and leaned in to Ginny's ear. Suddenly he was very calm; a Slytherin always loves being in control of a situation, especially if a Gryffindor had any involvement with that situation, and Draco was no different. He hesitated only momentarily before whispering something barely audible to her. Her face turned a ghastly pale shade.

"How did you...? You wouldn't dare!"

"Blackmail is not so far beneath me, Miss Weasley."

"But you said you were good now. How am I supposed to trust you if you're using _that_ as bait?!"

"Just because I'm playing for the other side now doesn't mean I can't use some of the old tactics. Really, if the good side learned to play dirty, maybe it would win more often."

Ginny made a face and Draco sighed yet again; this was more difficult than he would have imagined. Then again, women usually throw themselves at him, no questions asked, and in Draco's opinion, that was the best way. Questions are a messy business left for those who think first and never get around to doing anything- weak people, and Draco wanted no part of that. _I have to do this, though_, he reminded himself, _no matter how frustrating this gets._

"Look, I realize it seems bad now, but I really just needed you to trust me now and it'll all work out later."

_Yeah, it'll work out, I just didn't say for which side! What was I bothered about, this is a piece of cake! Hmm... cake._

Ginny seemed like she was ready to box him by the look on her face, but her expression fell into a sort of weary acceptance and she sighed resignedly.

"I suppose I have no choice..."

"Smashing!" Draco whooped. "You show great faith and you won't regret it. I'll show you how useful I can be soon enough!"

Ginny felt her heart plummet to her stomach and she was suddenly queasy. _What have I just signed on for?_

"Ok, so the first Monday or Thursday back from holiday, be at the... Room of Requirement at seven PM. Don't talk to your friends about it yet. Before they get to the little meeting, we can work out how the 'relationship' started. Your girlfriend duties will start at eight PM sharp, got it?

Ginny nodded half-heartedly. _Wait..._

"'Girlfriend duties'?" she asked quickly, trying to make sure she had heard correctly. "What do you have in mind exactly?"

Draco laughed, a real, strong laugh, after all, this could certainly get very fun. He winked at her seductively. "You'll see. Until then, _dear_." With a new air of confidence, he sauntered away.

_It went perfectly, I have my in. I can't wait to tell Father!_

A/N: A new development! Yes, Ginny finds her way in here, and is actually quite important. As with all my long stories, the drama is out in the distance somewhere, lurking, so you won't see much of it until after I build up the fluffiness and/or background of this fic.

Ok, so **please review**, I'd like more feedback on this (MorphManiac I luv you!). Anyone have a **suggestion as to what is the big secret that Draco's using as blackmail** on Ginny? I haven't quite thought of an exact idea yet, so I may use yours, and if I do, you get a chapter dedicated to you and... a cookie.

MorphManiac: Thanks! Well, I think you _were_ wrong, but at that time you didn't know Ginny was coming into this. But basically your guess is still right.


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